


29. Supernatural Comfort

by irrationalgame



Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [29]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Comfortween, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Superpowers, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalgame/pseuds/irrationalgame
Summary: Comfortween prompts from https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html29. Supernatural ComfortUse of magic or sci fi powers to help comfort someone.Thomas makes the ultimate sacrifice.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: Thommy Comfortween Prompts [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949317
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	29. Supernatural Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Short one! Catching up again!

“Shh, it’ll be alright,” Thomas soothed, but his face was white and panic stricken.

Jimmy hadn’t seen the motor coming and the driver hadn’t seen him. Unstoppable force met not-so-immovable object and Jimmy was sent flying into the hedgerow like he was made of rags rather than flesh and bone.

 _I’m dying_ , he thought abstractly, _this is it_.

Thomas was frantically fussing and pulling at his clothes and yelling at someone to get help until Jimmy said; “Thomas, stop, please.”

The under-butler blinked.

“Jus’ hold me will you,” Jimmy ground out, “I’m done for.”

“Don’t.” Thomas bit back a sob but pulled Jimmy into his arms.

Jimmy reached out and affectionately stroked his jaw with a trembling hand, leaving a smear of red where he’d touched Thomas’s porcelain skin. Thomas’s face crumpled, tears running down his cheeks.

“Jimmy,” was all he could manage between sobs.

“Thomas, I’m so sorry,” Jimmy said. It was hard to think, let alone speak. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“Always,” Thomas smiled sadly.

“Love you, y’know.”

Thomas closed his eyes and replied; “Love you more.”

He leaned down and laid a soft kiss against Jimmy’s lips.

Then _something_ happened.

Jimmy couldn’t be more descriptive than that because whatever was happing was so alien that he didn’t have the words to describe it. His first thought was that this was what _dying_ must feel like; a strange buzzing had begun just below the skin at every point in which his body was in contact with Thomas. It quickly spread out through his limbs until his whole body felt as if it had been filled with a soothing sort of pins and needles. And then he felt, well, _better_. The bits that hurt before, didn’t. And within thirty seconds the only thing wrong with Jimmy was that he was more confused than he’d ever been in his entire life.

Then Thomas collapsed against him, stone cold dead, and everything went to _shite_.

Jimmy somehow managed to scrape together enough composure to lie; in his version of events it was Thomas who’d been hit and Jimmy who’d held him as he died. He couldn’t really explain how he was so covered in blood, but he kept crying and so no-one pressed him too much over it.

He was lying in his bed later that day, numbly staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of what was a nonsensical situation, when Alfred burst into his room without knocking, his face pale.

“Jimmy!” he said, “You have to come, now.”

The five minute drive to the cottage hospital seemed like the longest of his life. The car hadn’t even stopped before he threw open the door and ran full pelt through the wards until he reached a little private room at the end of a corridor.

There, sitting on the bed and reading a goddamn newspaper with complete insouciance was Thomas.

Alive.

“Thomas,” Jimmy breathed, his legs threatening to give out from under him.

Thomas looked up and smiled and Jimmy dropped to his knees.

“Hey, oh!” Thomas hopped of the bed and joined Jimmy on the floor.

“You - you were - Thomas you,” Jimmy sobbed and threw himself into Thomas’s arms. The under-butler held him as he cried.

“It’s...I don’t know,” Clarkson admitted later, when he came in to check on Thomas. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean you hear stories of people falling into deep sleeps and,” he shook his head. “I can’t find a thing wrong with you Mr Barrow. I’ll keep you in for a day or two but honestly, I don’t know if there’s much point.”

After he left Thomas said; “Well at least I get a couple of days off work.”

Jimmy gave him a look. “Did you know?” he said, “That you’d survive it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas replied, refusing to meet Jimmy’s eye. “It’s all just been a strange mistake.”

“Don’t,” Jimmy hissed, “don’t do that. I’m not a bloody idiot. This weren’t a _mistake_. I was dying and then I wasn’t and I held your body in me arms - you were _gone_ Thomas.” He couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice.

Thomas was silent for so long Jimmy didn’t think he was going to answer.

“No,” Thomas said finally, “I didn’t know. I was fairly certain it would kill me.”

“You’re a bloody _bastard_ ,” Jimmy said, “I’m not worth that, not ever.”

Thomas sighed; “Of course you’re are. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Jimmy grabbed Thomas’s arm. “How - I mean, it’s like a _Herbert West_ story.”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Have you ever, y’know, before?”

Thomas thought then said; “Once, when I were a lad. My youngest sister was only a baby still and I were supposed to be watching her but...she fell down the stairs. She was...hurt, crying her eyes out, her little arm was all bent and, and I just knew, if I put my hands on her and just willed it, she’d be alright. And she was. She stopped crying and her arm was fine. I was sick for a week after.”

He paused and shook his head. “As I grew up I rationalised it - I thought I must’ve imagined the whole thing. I never - I guess I was never in that situation again until today. I mean men died in front of me during the war but none who I loved enough to die for meself.”

Jimmy climbed on to Thomas’s bed and wrapped his arms around him, pressing their foreheads together. “Are you saying _love_ saved my life?”

Thomas huffed out a laugh; “No, _I_ saved your life, you little shite.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little evil part of me wanted to leave Thomas dead but I just couldn’t.


End file.
